Those Whom the Gods Would Destroy
by Jen Martin
Summary: A cruel PR plot threatens not only to destroy Nelson, but everything- and everyone- he loves. *This story is a sequel to "Good Men"*
1. What the Night Wind Brought

**Those Whom the Gods Would Destroy**

This story uses characters and situations introduced in "Good Men" and "The Demons of Wrangel Island," so it will make more sense if you've read those stories first. It also references Crane's brainwashing by the PR in the Season 1 episode, "The Saboteur." Hope you enjoy!

 _Those whom the gods would destroy they first make mad._ – attributed to Euripides

 _ **Chapter 1: What the night wind brought**_

"Look at him!" the waiter said to the bartender, who was busy refilling a bowl of Spanish peanuts. "He's the perfect target!"

The bartender shook his head, concentrating on his task. "So you say. So the General says. But whenever a mission is too easy, I get nervous." He frowned as a trio of peanuts missed the bowl and skittered across the polished oak bar.

"He's angry about something," the waiter observed. "You see how he bristles? Pushing him over the edge will be child's play. He won't even recognize what's happening until it's too late for him to care."

"Maybe." The bartender swept the spilled nuts onto the floor. "They say he's a genius, though. Best not to forget that."

His comrade shrugged dismissively. "It won't make any difference. It might even cause him to succumb more quickly. If he's as egotistical as the reports indicate…"

The bartender began drying glassware as he glanced across the empty restaurant to the only occupied booth. "I admit it was wise of the General not to try for Crane. Kidnapping him again would be risky. His mother can only be hospitalized so many times!"

"The old brainwashing techniques were crude, in any case. With the new drug, there's no risk at all."

The bartender glanced at his watch. "As long as we keep him from going home until the job's completed."

The waiter smiled as he watched the two men arguing on the other side of the restaurant. Their voices were too low for the PR agents to hear what they were saying, but their expressions indicated neither was close to giving in. The waiter's smile broadened. Admiral Nelson wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

X X X

"I understand all the arguments in favor of the Navy's chosen location for the test, but they don't persuade me. There are at least three alternative sites that are equally good. Probably better." Admiral Nelson scowled at Jiggs Starke as he took a quick swig of his drink. It was the best whiskey sour he'd ever had at _Dante's_. He wondered if they'd hired a new bartender. He pointed across the booth at his friend. "Listen to me: that ecosystem is very fragile. We don't know what the effects of the sonic beam will be. It could wreak havoc."

"Then havoc will be wrought. It's decided, and even you throwing your weight around won't change that."

"I could go to Washington and tell them how many species inhabit the projected area of effect. And that's not even considering the migratory ones. Humpbacks pass through that sector every year about this time, Jiggs. Did you know that?"

Starke sighed. "You know I didn't."

Nelson's expression was half-furious, half-pleading, "And there's a species of giant tube worm that's unique to the region. It can thrive over a mile down, near volcanic fissures with levels of hydrogen sulfide you wouldn't believe. I've been planning to go back and collect some, but it's difficult because of the depths involved. I've finally got the perfect team and they've been training…"

"It doesn't matter, Harry," Starke said firmly. "This test is important, it's going to happen, and _Seaview's_ going to help. That's the end of it."

"You seem to be forgetting _Seaview's_ not a Navy sub," Nelson said quietly.

Starke's expression darkened. "What was that?"

"You heard exactly what I said."

Starke shook his head. It took all his self-control to hold his considerable temper in check, but letting it loose wouldn't help. "In all the years we've been friends, I've never known you to set yourself against the will of the United States government or threaten to ignore…"

"I didn't threaten anything, did I?" Nelson took another swallow. Maybe the drink wasn't so good, after all. _Too weak._

"Be careful, Harry. Not everyone in Washington is in your corner. There are those who think it's dangerous for a submarine with _Seaview's_ capabilities to belong to a civilian institute. Some of your critics think you enjoy having your own little navy, your personal seat of power. This country dislikes—and mistrusts—wealthy men with private armies."

Nelson snorted. "I don't have a private army. You're being ridiculous."

"You're being naïve." Starke eyed him levelly. "And you know it."

Nelson's jaw clenched. "I don't like these orders, Jiggs."

"I know, but they stand." Starke crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto the table. "Think about it. Sleep on it. It will take a week for _Seaview_ to get to the test coordinates, so you can afford to wait a day before you start blistering everyone's eardrums with your objections."

Harry slid out of the booth. "A day won't change my mind."

"Nothing changes your mind, but at least give me twenty-four hours to get damage control in place before you start shooting off your mouth. Can you do that?"

"Twenty-four hours." Nelson turned to find the waiter standing practically on top of him, balancing a tray with another whiskey sour and a beer. Caught off-balance, the man fell forward, the drinks tipping over and drenching Nelson's uniform.

As Harry tried vainly to brush the liquid off, Starke exploded. "You clumsy idiot! We didn't even order another round!"

In spite of his irritation, Nelson smiled. It was typical of Jiggs to take out his anger on someone below him, venting on the waiter all the frustration he'd really like to heap on Harry. "That's enough." Nelson laid his hand on his friend's arm. "It's late and the man's probably tired. Given the day I've had, this," he gestured to his dripping jacket, "is a suitable ending."

"I'm sorry, sir," the waiter stammered. "You can dry off in the men's room. I'll bring some towels from the kitchen. I'm so sorry!"

"Thanks, that'll be fine." As the man hurried away, Nelson turned to Starke. "You'd better go ahead. Seems I'll be delayed."

"You sure?"

"Go on. You've got damage control to take care of, remember?" Giving him a weary nudge, Harry headed for the men's room, stripping off his jacket as he went.

X X X

The soft whir of the air conditioning coming on above her bed woke Cloud Nelson from a restless sleep. She'd tried to wait up until Harry came home, but Kowalski had sent her to bed at 10 pm when the Admiral hadn't returned. Ski was probably still downstairs at the huge dining room table, textbooks strewn in front of him. He was taking two summer classes at UC-Santa Barbara, paid for by a barter deal with the Admiral that included babysitting Cloud during her visit. Ski still shipped out with _Seaview_ whenever there was a mission, so he always had missed classwork to catch up on. Crane warned him that in the next term he'd have to choose between the two—college or the submarine—but so far Ski had stayed tight-lipped about his decision.

Cloud rolled on her side, tugging the soft sheet up over her shoulder, and sighed. Even after several months in Boston with Edith, she still couldn't sleep deeply. She'd wake with a start at the smallest unfamiliar sound, and Harry's house was full of them. She wasn't used to the tree branch that scraped against her window, or the air conditioner that constantly switched on and off, or the way the phone would ring at all hours. Edith never got calls in the middle of the night, but Nelson seemed to work constantly. If there was a problem at the Institute, it didn't matter if it was 2 am—the phone would ring, jangling Cloud's nerves until she heard Harry's soft, deep voice in the next room, a reassurance that all was well.

 _Post-traumatic stress disorder_ , the psychologist had said. It was a new term for a very old affliction, one Cloud knew well. She'd seen several of Lord Hurricane's best men fall victim to it. Especially the ones Colonel Wilson had gotten his hands on. She never thought it could affect her, though. The daily horrors of her life had been too omnipresent to cause lost sleep.

But in America, surrounded by luxury, Cloud was haunted by the demons of her past. A tiny click was the sound of a rifle bolt being drawn, or the rumble of thunder was the explosion of a grenade over her head, and suddenly she was transported back to the jungle. She hated her weakness and wondered if her father had been right: since she'd come to America, maybe she had become just an ordinary girl, after all. Maybe when Hurricane's son had died, he'd taken his bravery to the grave with him.

 _Give it time_ , Edith had said, cupping Cloud's cheek in her soft hand. _Healing is a process that can't be rushed. Maybe a change of scenery is what you need._ But somehow she'd known what Cloud really needed was Harry, and before Cloud knew it she was on a plane to Santa Barbara for the remainder of her summer vacation.

Cloud drew in a deep breath like the psychologist had taught her and slowly let it out. Tomorrow was Saturday and Harry had promised to spend it with her. No work, no distractions. He would give her a swimming lesson in the pool and then they would go to the beach. Cloud wanted to start a seashell collection and Harry had promised to help her gather and identify her first specimens.

She closed her eyes and relaxed, a small smile curving her lips. Then she heard it—a tiny creak on the balcony outside her window and the soft scraping of a knife against the glass. Cloud didn't allow herself to stiffen, but her breath came a little faster as she slit her eyes a tiny bit. Silhouetted against the night was a darker shape. The intruder had taped the glass near the latch so that it wouldn't fall and shatter when he cut it. Now the black-clad figure expertly popped out a circle of glass and reached through the hole, quietly turning the latch and letting himself in.

Possibilities flew through Cloud's mind. _Was he here to kidnap her? To kill Harry?_ She felt a rush of relief that Nelson wasn't home. She considered attacking the man, using the advantage of surprise, but he was twice her size. Even if she were lucky, it would be hard to wrest the knife from him and hold him off until Ski heard the disturbance and came to help her. With courage honed in dozens of similar life-and-death situations, Cloud patiently waited for the man to make his next move.

The intruder was at the end of her bed now and Cloud heard his quick intake of breath, as if he was surprised to find the room occupied. She lay quietly for what seemed an eternity as he stood there, almost close enough to touch, watching her sleep. Seemingly satisfied that she posed no threat, the intruder crossed to her door and slowly opened it. A shaft of light from the dining room downstairs cut across the carpet. Leaving her door ajar, he moved towards Nelson's room.

Cloud hadn't lost the ability to move absolutely silently. Carefully, she pushed the sheet back and crawled out of bed, her small, bare feet hitting the floor soundlessly. She considered calling to Ski, but it was still too risky. She didn't know if the intruder was armed with something other than his knife, and the thought of Kowalski being shot on the stairs as he hurried to the rescue sickened her.

Cloud pressed herself against the wall of the hallway and peered into Harry's room. She could hear the man opening drawers, searching. Cloud scowled, wondering what the thief could be looking for amongst Harry's socks and underwear. Cautiously, she edged forward, hoping to see what he was up to.

X X X

The PR agent cursed inwardly. He knew Nelson had left a man guarding his house, but no one had told him there would be a girl in the room next to the admiral's. He had no idea who she was and for a moment considered kidnapping her. She was an easy target, sleeping deeply, unaware of his presence. What would the admiral pay to have her back? What secrets would he give in exchange for her safety? What might she tell them if the right pressure were applied?

For a moment he was tempted, but then he remembered the fate of the last agent who'd failed to stick to the plan. Making a mental note to find out more about the child for future reference, the PR agent passed her bed silently and continued toward his goal.

Slipping into Nelson's room, he quickly opened a few drawers and rifled the contents. It would allay suspicion if it looked like the room had been searched. Then he passed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Flicking on a flashlight, he located Nelson's bottle of after-shave lotion and quickly poured the contents of a small vial into it. He smiled in satisfaction as he watched the colorless, odorless liquid mix with the contents of the bottle. This drug was the pride of the PR's Medical Research Division. They'd told him very little about it, since he couldn't talk about what he didn't know if he were captured, but he understood it was absorbed through the skin and suppressed the area of the brain that controlled emotions. The victim would lose his ability to feel love, empathy, and compassion while experiencing no decrease in intelligence or will.

 _Once Nelson is incapable of loving his fellow man, he will feel no affection for his country, either_ , the General had said. _He will not have to be coerced to join us. He'll come of his own free will when his people reject him, because only we will be able to satisfy his ambitions._ The General tilted his head back triumphantly as he surveyed the three agents standing before him. _Gentlemen, you should be very proud. You are the wolves that will bring down the lion. You will be responsible for turning the renowned Admiral Nelson into a psychopath._

X X X

The front door opened just as Cloud set foot in Harry's bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder to see him shutting the door firmly behind him. Sensing her above him, he looked up, scowling. "Cloud! Why….?"

There was no time to call for help. Cloud felt the intruder move before she saw him. He appeared out of the darkness directly in front of her and she ducked instinctively as his knife slashed the air above her head. As if from a distance, she heard Harry shout and one of the dining room chairs crash to the floor as Ski jumped to his feet. Then the intruder rushed past her, back into her room and out onto her balcony. Ski took the steps two at a time, crashing into her as he raced after the man. Cloud spun around and would have fallen, but Harry caught her in his arms.

"Let me go! I can catch him!" She struggled against his grip.

"Be still," Nelson ordered. "Are you hurt?"

"What?" She looked at him distractedly, as if he'd asked an irrelevant question.

"I said, 'are you hurt?'"

His tone brought her back and Cloud released her breath, not realizing she'd been holding it. Nelson was running his hands over her arms, reassuring himself she was unharmed. His quick, worried gaze caught and held her.

"No," she shook her head, her voice suddenly small. "No, I'm fine."

Ski came back at that moment, winded. "He's gone, sir. Got clean away. Whoever he was, he was fast. Want me to call the police?"

"I doubt the police can help. I imagine this wasn't an ordinary thief."

"He wasn't."

They looked at Cloud and she explained how expertly he'd cut the glass out of her window, how silently he'd passed her bed without touching her, and how he'd gone directly to Nelson's room as if he knew the floor plan of the house precisely. When she finished, Harry turned to Ski.

"Would you mind staying tonight? I'm sorry to ask, but I'll feel better if you're here."

"Aye, sir. I'll turn on the alarm system and make sure all the doors are locked."

"Call a security team from the Institute. I want the grounds swept." He looked at Ski meaningfully. "I want to know what that man was after."

When the crewman went back downstairs, Cloud followed Nelson into his room. The admiral made a thorough search for listening devices, finally unscrewing the phone receiver to see if it had been tapped. Satisfied the room was clean, he sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and dialed Captain Crane. Cloud went into his bathroom and splashed cold water on her face as she listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Lee? I'm sorry to bother you so late… no, no I'm fine. Well, yes, there's been some trouble, but things are under control."

Cloud drew a deep breath, the calming scent of Harry's after-shave lotion filling her nose. The bottle sat open beside the sink, the cap lying on the bath mat at her feet. She stooped and picked it up, screwing it back on the bottle absently as Harry continued. "We've been ordered out tomorrow on a mission. I know we were supposed to have another week in port but the orders have changed." There was a pause and Nelson's voice had an edge when he spoke again. "Jiggs was no help. I'll keep trying even once we're at sea, but I don't hold out much hope."

Harry looked up to see Cloud in the doorway of the bathroom, patting her face dry. Her eyes were hooded, expressionless, and he knew it was because he was leaving again so unexpectedly. In that instant, he made a decision. "Start calling the crew back. We'll put out at 11:00 tomorrow. And, Lee," he paused, then plunged ahead, "I'll be bringing Cloud with me. There was an intruder at the house tonight… no, I don't know who he was, but I don't want to leave her here. Until this is cleared up, she'll be safer on the boat. She can bunk with Lt. Daniels."

Cloud didn't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. She sped out of the room, throwing the towel on the floor. "Ski!" She almost knocked the crewman down as she careened into him. "I'm coming with you! On _Seaview_!"


	2. The Chance of a Lifetime

**Those Whom the Gods Would Destroy**

I'm really sorry for the long wait in posting this chapter. I appreciate you sticking with me!

" _Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature?"_ – Hannibal Lecter, _The Silence of the Lambs_

 _ **Chapter 2: Chance of a lifetime**_

Veronica Daniels was trying her best to read and it just wasn't working. If anyone had seen her flipping sightlessly through the pages of the _Journal of Marine Annelids_ , they would have thought she was bored by the subject matter. In actuality, the article (by Harriman Nelson himself) was of great interest to her and she'd already studied it carefully during her weeks of training at NIMR. Nelson's writing style was a breath of fresh air in an academic journal: casually erudite, eminently readable. She'd found herself chuckling a couple of times at his turns of phrase, the sly persuasiveness of his arguments. He'd been a legend to her and her fellow post-docs. Even senior marine biologists held him in awe and she'd decided in her second year at Woods Hole that she'd join the crew of _Seaview_ and work for him someday. She'd been a Navy ROTC cadet in college who had continued to become a seasoned diver and a promising researcher—a perfect fit for his team.

Then the rejection letter arrived. It was a form letter, not even sent by Admiral Nelson, but from Captain Lee Crane or, she suspected, his secretary. _Thank you for submitting your application. Unfortunately, it is not possible to hire you for the SSRN Seaview, as a submarine is an unsuitable environment for a woman, except under short-term circumstances._

Her mother always said it was a man's world, but Veronica knew the country had changed tremendously since her mother was her age. To her disappointment, she realized the admiral shared her mother's viewpoint and not the forward-looking attitudes of her own generation. Naïvely, she'd thought that because she'd heard stories about Nelson and read his publications, she knew something about the man himself. But what did she know, really? There were less flattering stories to match the ones extolling his genius—researchers who complained about his arrogance, his dismissiveness, who accused him of showboating. She'd always written them off as envious and petty, but the rejection letter was the first crack in the heroic image she'd fashioned.

Admiral Nelson was a scientist who appreciated facts, who could see the truth in data, so she made sure her second application contained even more detailed information about her work. She laid her accomplishments out like goods in a marketplace, hoping at least one would be shiny enough to capture the great man's attention.

The second rejection letter she received was almost as terse as the first, except a sentence had been added at the end. _Perhaps you should apply for a position at NIMR._

Veronica had stared at that letter for two days, wondering. Had Nelson written the invitation himself, or was it that Captain Crane again? Should she settle for a diminishment of her dream just to get her foot in the door? It would be the prudent thing to do.

Her mother often lamented that she wasn't sensible. Veronica waited a week, then sent another application to join _Seaview's_ crew as a junior officer/scientist. She knew the opportunities to be found on the submarine couldn't be duplicated on land. If the admiral could just _see_ her, could understand how long she'd been trying, how hard she'd worked, perhaps he would give her the chance to prove herself. "Just one mission," she'd pleaded in her last application. "Just give me a chance to show you what I can do."

And then, miraculously, Nelson had written to her, inviting her to join _Seaview's_ crew. It was a hand-written note this time, accompanied by a slew of forms and waivers—indemnity in the case of drowning or dismemberment, hazardous duty insurance, an application for security clearance. She'd signed them all without thinking. It was the chance of a lifetime and the only thing that mattered was that she would be on _Seaview_.

Finally ensconced in her cabin on the boat, Veronica flipped through the journal, unable to focus. She'd been training in Santa Barbara for eight weeks for a deep-sea collection mission. So far, she'd only seen Nelson when he'd given the scientific staff a brief pep talk about the importance of the project. He was as energetic and enthusiastic as she'd imagined he would be, and a feeling of pride swept over her when he'd smiled approvingly at her. There'd been no doubt in her mind that she'd finally been accepted, even if she was a woman. No doubt until today.

Veronica dropped the journal listlessly, giving up any pretense of reading. A few minutes ago, the executive officer informed her that the admiral was bringing his twelve year-old daughter on the mission and would appreciate it if she would share her cabin with the girl.

Veronica ground her teeth together, trying to hide her disappointment. She'd tried so hard to make them accept her as a scientist and an equal and now, on her first tour of duty, she was being asked to be a companion for a rich girl on summer vacation! She'd have to put up with all the trappings of adolescence: make-up and pop music magazines and whining, no doubt, about how boring and stupid the submarine was. There would be no privacy, no peace, and if she even looked crossly at the girl it would probably be tattled back to the admiral.

There was a brisk rap on the door. Sighing resignedly, Veronica pulled it open.

A thin, dark-skinned girl stood before her holding a battered leather bag in one hand and a large, plush shark in the other. A tall crewman waited behind her with a suitcase, his hand poised to knock again.

For a moment they stared at each other, then the girl pushed forward into the cabin. "I'm Cloud Nelson." She turned to the man. "You can drop my things anywhere, Ski. I'll put them away."

When he was gone, she turned to Veronica. "You're surprised." Her eyes were fathomless, unreadable, as she scanned the woman's face.

"No!" When Cloud sniffed contemptuously, she added, "Well, yes… I suppose. I'm sorry." The words were inane, inadequate.

Cloud's expression softened. "It's all right. I don't guess Harry told you he's not really my father? Or asked how you felt about sharing your cabin?" She laid the bag and the shark on the empty bunk across from Veronica's. "Harry's inconsiderate, sometimes," she added matter-of-factly, hoisting her suitcase with a grunt. "He doesn't mean to be, but people's feelings don't always occur to him."

Veronica shook her head, trying to decide what to make of her outspoken roommate. Cloud continued unpacking, undeterred by Veronica's silence. "I don't mind staying with you—if you don't mind having me—but I don't see why I can't just stay in Harry's cabin. He says it isn't proper, but we slept together in the jungle, so I don't see what the problem is."

Veronica blinked rapidly, wondering if the girl had any idea what she'd just said. She couldn't believe—wouldn't believe—the implications of the casual comment, but Cloud's irreverent way of talking about the admiral confused her. It wasn't the way any child she knew spoke about her father, much less a respected figure like Harriman Nelson.

Cloud had turned and was watching her closely, so Veronica forced herself to smile. "Of course I don't mind having you. I've just never been on _Seaview_ before and I hardly know anyone, so I suppose I'm a bit out of my depth today."

"It's hard to get used to a new place," Cloud observed, "especially if you're different." She flopped on the bunk, pushing her luggage aside, and stared up at the ceiling. "I've only been on _Seaview_ once, but everyone was very nice to me. I remember thinking, _These are good men_." She caught Veronica's gaze. "They are good men, Lt. Daniels. All of them."

X X X

"Who do you think the intruder was?" Lee Crane settled back in his chair, his expression worried.

"How the hell should I know?" Nelson ran a hand over his eyes and smiled tightly at his captain. "I'm sorry, Lee. I don't mean to be so curt. I just have too many problems right now and not enough solutions."

"How can I help?"

"I don't know that you can, unless you can talk the Navy into changing the sonic beam's test site."

"If you can't manage it, I certainly can't."

"I know." Nelson took a sip of coffee. "This intruder just adds another layer. Maybe he was a PR agent, but maybe…" he broke off, scowling.

"Maybe what?"

"Are you my man, Lee?" Harry studied him closely. "Can I always rely on you?"

Crane frowned, taken aback by the question. "I wouldn't think you'd have to ask."

"Good." Nelson took a deep breath. "I know you are. I'm just… checking."

"What is it you suspect?"

"What if the intruder were sent by our government to tap my phone or bug my house? Maybe I stopped him before he had time to do it. There are people in Washington who are jealous of me, Lee. Jiggs said so. He warned me."

"There are always people who are jealous of you." Lee's frown deepened. "Why are you worrying about them now? You don't usually give them a second thought."

"I don't know." Nelson's brow furrowed. "I really don't know. It just occurred to me." He took another sip of coffee and heaved a sigh. "Well, the intruder didn't accomplish his mission, whatever that was, and we're on _Seaview_ now. My submarine, my crew."

"Speaking of that," Crane said, "your experiment with Lt. Daniels is going well so far. I haven't heard any complaints from the men yet."

"We've only been out a day."

"True." Lee smiled. "How's Cloud settling in?"

"Fine, as far as I know."

"As far as you know? Haven't you checked in on her?"

Nelson set his cup down a little too hard and coffee sloshed over the sides. "I've been busy— busy trying to solve all these problems! I don't appreciate the criticism in your tone!" He stopped at the shocked expression on Crane's face and when he spoke again his voice was silky, conciliatory. "You're my right-hand man, Lee. I depend on you to be beside me, to help me out. Cloud's fine—she's got Ski and Pat— and Lt. Daniels. The child has to know she can't command my attention all the time, doesn't she?" He eyed Crane seriously. "We're busy men, you and I, doing important work. The sooner Cloud understands that, the better."


End file.
